Demon King

Demon Prince

The Kingdom of Thespian. Once a beautiful and thriving place where doors were never locked and windows were never barred to any mortal man who thought to tread through its quiet streets. Now a barren wasteland. Any windows left stand on the remains of foundations in charred fragments. The kingdom was blackened with ash and flame and nothing but a heavy cloud of grey grew there. Since the Demon King took refuge in King Syrec's castle on Mount Arcane which was now nothing but a black spire on the face of the world.
  So long ago it was when he first led his black chariot amidst the flanks of two damned horses into the prospering city. And so long since the story of the battle and the sequence of events that took place afterwards were ever recounted as they will be now.

A hundred years ago...

  The sound of the battle drum echoed throughout the land. The sharpening of blades the shrill chorus of Death's flock on the stormy air. The first bout of rain had made the land waterlogged and dismal. The sky was black and silent save for the nearby roar of lightning. Weary men stood outside weather beaten tents, not daring to sleep. Amour coated feet stamped into the ground and shields lay close to hand streaked with rain.
  The Captain hadn't said a word. Instead he took to looking to the sky, as if praying for some kind of peace to take hold of the murderous winds and then casting his eyes along the horizon observing the abominable character that stood there, waiting for the first strike.
  The Captain grunted and let out a long low sigh. His men would not sleep and if they kept on like this for another night then there would be no man with him that could even think to stand up to the Beast. Standing up abruptly he made a grab for his sword and shield and slammed down his visor with such an almighty crash and all the men in the surrounding area stood to attention.
  "Many lives have been lost to this beast comrades. Many women and children slain at the wayside in order to slake this demon's thirst for blood. And I say it is to happen no more!" and revelling in the mighty roar that came from each of his men he strode off in order for battle.
  And there he still stood. Calm and relaxed at the sight of the horde of men that were careering their way to his resting place. His eyes glinted, crimson red underneath tendrils of black hair. His armour did not glisten with the rain. Nor did anything around him. It was as if nature defied what he was and strived to stay away from his presence at all costs.
  His horses gnashed and reared up on their hind legs waiting for the charge. Real stallions of Satan they were, their eyes maddened by the sights of the Underworld and their hooves chipped and scarred with flames. If one was to get the brief chance of closer inspection then they would not see teeth in their mouths. Rather they would see a cavernous hole reaching what seemed to be the depths of fiery hell. Flames blossomed in their throats as if the begged to be released onto the world.
  His chariot was a thing of beauty and death. Black as the armour he wore and as beautiful as any silver leaden night. Intricate patterns laced the body of it and ornate handle pieces secured the leather straps to which the horses were tied. His sword was something to behold. It could not be judged by any craftsman and as no craftsman had the skill or imagination as to create such a thing. Also this thing was not handled by any mere sword maker. It seemed as though it had risen out of the tar pits that had desecrated ancient races since time immemorial. The blade seemed to glide out of its long sheath and move like fluid when in battle. Not a trace of blood could be found on its blade.
  Unfolding his arms momentarily he looked towards the nearby castle of Thespian. He remembered the first time he had set eyes upon the kingdom and how beautiful it looked whether it be day or night. And he remembered how dearly he wanted to bring it to ruination. Destruction, he loved it. He had taken it to heart all his existence and nurtured it into a killing machine.
  "Fools," he muttered under his breath, "Here they come with their toothpicks and shields thinking themselves safe behind their captain. Thinking they are fighting for the right and noble cause. Following like sheep to the slaughter."
  He gently picked up the reins of his chariot and tightened his hold on them. The gnashing and rearing of the horses stopped and they stood stock still as though cemented to the ground. But the madness was all too clear in their eyes no matter the stillness of their figures.
  Captain Treyen unsheathed his sword and held it aloft as they marched towards the Beast. A thousand men he had behind him against one. Victory was assured and Treyen would be welcomed in glory in the halls of Castle Thespian. The king's daughter would be returning home shortly and then whatever honour he was bestowed he would pledge unto her. And his men would be the most respected army in the land.
  But as these pleasant thoughts entered his head a low terrible growl echoed around stopping him and his men in their tracks.
  "You are all going to die." And then silence. Complete and utter silence. Even the wind around them had stopped blowing and the rain had softened to a near halt.
  Hands shook and swords shook with them. The men's courage was feigning and it would not be long before they gave up the right altogether for want of a safer place to crawl away and hide.
  Treyen knew his and with the last ounces of courage he had left raised his sword and roared, "For Thespian!"
No sooner had he proclaimed this a head was rolling on the floor leaving a trail of cold blood behind it. A flash of black and it was gone.
  The captain whirled around and his corporal’s decapitated body had slumped to the floor holding his sword in a tight death grip. Some men bent over and vomited heavily, others drove their swords into the ground to steady themselves and others sank to their knees and sobbed.
  Treyen looked back in the opposite direction and there the Beast was. Stood upon his black chariot his hounds of hell awaiting any sign of an order to charge. And, held in a clawed gauntlet, was the head of his corporeal. The face was limp and the mouth hung open and blood spilt over the bottom lip. The head was thrown in front of the steeds and both at once swooped downwards on it and ripped it apart.
  "Let none escape my beauties" The Beast unsheathed his sword and leaped off the chariot and the contraption sped off with unearthly speed.
  "Call to arms!!" roared Treyen and began a run at the Beast. Any men with a shred of dignity yanked up their swords and shield and charged with their captain. Others fled as far as they could. But the work of the heads blood was done. The chariot was speeding round and around the camp. Escape was impossible.
  Blood splattered across Treyen's face as one by one his men fell around him at the blade of the devil. Screams rent the air as the once green earth turned red in an abominable waterfall. And cruel laughter amongst the screaming, "I told you, you are all going to die here!!"
  And then Treyen was stood alone. The Beast was nowhere to be found and his men were demolished. He had been deserted on the battlefield against the Devil himself. He fell to the floor and crossed himself reverently and prayed for forgiveness for the past sins that he had committed. If he was to die at the hands of the Devil then he begged for redemption from God.
  And the before he had any time to plea for his life the Beasts armoured feet were in his sight. His head lifted and there he was. Two rubies of blood set in a face of stone only his jet black hair seemed to have any animation of life.
  "What are you doing you pathetic excuse for a life form?" Distaste rang heavily in the demons voice. Such a pathetic display as this he had never seen before.
  Treyen scrambled away and reached inside his breast plate and drew a golden cross from it and held it up to the Beast like some kind of magic charm. A glimpse of cold black later and the cross was held in the Beast's hand.
  "How insulting. You believe me to be a minion of the Devil?" Flames filtered from the palm of his hand and there was nothing but molten liquid in the spot where the cross was. "Dear little child, I am so much more than that."
  Treyen raised his hands in surrender and a savage kick was dealt to his chest. Blood spurted out from his mouth and his eyes rolled momentarily into his head.
  "Surrender is not an option. You are prey and I am your predator. The cycle must be kept and I must destroy you."
  A sword sweep later and it was all over.
  The horses and the chariot appeared at his side at a slow trot. He gave a swift nod to the horses and mounted the chariot.
  The horses reared their heads and flames billowed out onto the ground. The field lit up in flames. The mountain ranges surrounding the areas became huge pillars of fire and in what seemed an instant the ground was stripped bare of life and no sign of a battle was left.
  The Demon King cast a cold eye over the wasteland and turned to Thespian. A jewel it seemed in this now barren necklace. It would make its destruction all the more sweet.
  "Onto Thespian my beauties" And with a gentle tug of the reins the chariot sped off towards the sunlit pastures of the central kingdom.